iPod shuffle
by Kazuki Landen
Summary: My contribution to the iPod shuffle drabbles. Mostly slash. Don't judge me on the music choices, blame my iPod.


Disclaimer: the iPod is mine, but the songs and Psych are not.

Ten drabbles, which I suspect you could think of as connected now I've jigged the order a little. They take various people's point of view, and various times. They're mostly Lassiter / Shawn slash, so apologies to those who don't like it. Also, apologies for any OOC-ness.

I'm sure you all know the format by now, but just in case:

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.

2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.

3. Write a drabble/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!

4. Do ten of these, then post them.

(I bent the rules a little… but only a little.)

**Can't take my eyes off you – John Barrowman**

I can see him across the room, perched on O'Hara's desk and grinning that stupid smirk that just screams 'I'm good, and I know it'. Between bites of Thai food, he glances up and sees me staring. I feel my cheeks flush, and look down at a file. As soon as I know he's distracted, I'm back to staring – a little more discreetly, this time. As the song goes, I really can't keep my eyes off him.

Half an hour later, flicking through a filing cabinet, I glance up again to see him slinking towards me. He drops the subtlety as soon as our eyes meet, and leans on the filing cabinet. "Lassie," his eyes are dancing now, sparkling up at me, "You can't take your eyes off me." How did he…? "But that's ok – trust me, there are far better things for you to take off me…"

Oh… he's good. And I'm gonna trust him, just this once.

**Somebody to love – Queen**

I never realised Carlton played the piano, but as I peer in his front window, I can see his hands moving gracefully over the keys, and his eyes are closed as he plays from memory, or maybe just makes it up as he goes along. The music swells over me, and the tear that drips down his face makes my own eyes overflow. I can't believe… I can't believe he's been affected by this so much. He must really be in love…

I ring the door bell, and the music stops. Grateful that I don't wear mascara – tinted eyelashes are so much easier to deal with – I brush one hand over my face, and put on my charm. "Hey, Lassiter."

"O'Hara." He's brusque as ever.

"I found him. He's…" I shake my head. "He's sorry. And, he gave me this."

I hand over the envelope, and turn away. This is private. Between Lassiter and Shawn.

Two days later, their happy faces tell the story. A week later, I'm searching through Lassiter's desk for a lost file, and I find the piece of paper. "I found somebody to love, Lassie. Don't make me lose him again." It was written in Shawn's scrawl, with his signature at the bottom. No kisses, but then I'm sure they've made up for it.

**Memories – Within Temptation**

My arm is aching. This damned sling isn't helping, just getting in my way, but after the fit the doc threw last time I tried to take it off, I think I'll leave it.

He lies so still on the bed, none of his usual vive showing. The damned ventilator pumps away, reminding me that he is both alive, and dying. Not that I need the reminder.

The vicodin keeps dragging me under, trying to make me sleep, but I turn my mind away from the nightmares I know are waiting and think of happier times. The police picnic, where we finally trashed the fire department at baseball, the movie we went to last week, the way he woke me up two days ago…

I cling to these memories, desperately hoping that they're not all the ones I'll ever have of him. Desperately hoping the next tears I shed won't be at his funeral.

All of these memories… they keep him near to me, when the shell on the bed would drive him away.

I reach out one hand, gently touch his. These memories bring his smile back to me, the gleam in his eyes, and I feel my eyes flood.

Please, Shawn. Please, don't leave.

**Welcome to paradise – Green Day**

It's a good thing postcards are so damn cheap here. Every time I try and write something, it takes me at least three tries to get something good. Something that won't get Mom running out here, trying to save me from myself. Hey, I'm away from dad – first day I got here, I thought, 'Welcome to paradise.'

Mom,

I miss you, I'm sorry I

Mom,

Someone was shot on my street last night.

Mom,

I'm having a great time, my apartment's

Mom,

I'm having a great time here, I've got a job selling ice creams on the beach and everything's going fine. Sorry I didn't get in touch sooner, I wanted to get settled in. My apartment's great, a bit small but near the beach. Technically it's in the slums, but it's ok. I'm thinking of staying here a while, then maybe coming back for a visit, as long as Dad's not around. I'll send you another postcard soon.

Love, Shawn.

**Baba O'Riley – The Who**

I never really knew Shawn as a teenager. Saw him from a distance – of course, I saw him after he was arrested. He was already a well-established legend around the station by then; Henry Spencer's kid, the one you should never play at poker, at least for money, and who was smart as a whip.

As he got older, stories went around the station – Mexico was mentioned, more than once. Henry didn't like the rumours, tried to stop all of them; I think he just wanted to forget he even had a son. There were those odd moments though, when I'd stumble upon him holding a photo worn from handling, and once it dropped to the floor as he shoved it in his desk. It was of him, his wife and his son, all smiling up at the camera from a picnic blanket on the beach.

So, whatever Henry says, I know he loved his son, and still does. My old partner isn't quite as heartless as he'd like us all to believe.

At heart, though, I think Shawn's still a teenager, full of rebellion and conflict, or at least he was until recently. But, teenage wasteland can only last so long, before something new comes over the horizon. A new land, full of promise, and Shawn's taking his first steps towards that new land, towards really growing up. Hey, in my opinion he's done a damn good job.

**Two out of three ain't bad – Meatloaf**

"We can talk all night, Spencer, but it's not getting us anywhere. I've given you all the details, just go away until you have something useful."

I solved the cases, the two nasty cases they dumped on us, but somewhere along the way I've lost Lassiter, pushed him away, and now I can't get him back.

He told me… He told me there was no way he could ever love me. After I told him how much I wanted him, _needed_ him, he told me he could never love me. He kissed me, and left me alone. I can't believe I've ruined the best thing I ever had.

I didn't even do anything, but apparently saying I loved him was the very worst thing I could do.

As I turned to leave, Lassiter looked at me with calm eyes. "Two out of three ain't bad, Spencer, don't let it get you down." He was talking about the cases, weighing up two solved ones with the one mystery we're struggling on – but for me, two cases solved simply weighs up against one love lost. And two out of three is nothing, when it's the third that really mattered.

**Flying without wings – Westlife**

My head swims as I look over the side of the building. I can only imagine what Shawn's feeling right now, so close to the edge. I know he's not good with heights, I can't quite understand why he's doing what he is.

"Shawn? Shawn, come away from the edge, you can't change anything like this. Please, come back here."

"Lassiter?" He looks back at me, despair in his eyes. "I have to do this. Please, don't make this any more difficult than it already is."

My heart jumps in my chest, and I feel suddenly nauseous.

"Shawn, I love you."

His face changes, subtly, then a sudden grin brightens his eyes. "I know, Lassie. I know. But I have to do this."

He takes a step, reaching out a hand to the man clinging to the edge of the roof.

It won't bear his weight, we both know that, and I'm launching myself at him even as the ground crumbles below us.

I catch his feet as he goes over, his hands wrapped around the arms of the perp, and my feet catch on something, I don't know what but thank God.

For a moment, I was falling, as though my wings had been torn from me. As we're hauled back many minutes later and I grab Shawn close to me with shaking arms, I can feel my heart begin to return to normal. I look him in the eyes, and feel myself falling once again, but this time I'm flying, even without my wings.

**I can hear music – Beach boys**

I can hear music, someone's tinny speakers playing cheerful tunes through the fog in my brain. I blink, and the someone comes into focus. Shawn Spencer, nodding his head to the beat. The only sounds I can hear are the music, and the steady throb of my heartbeat in my ears.

I try and speak, but only manage a pathetic groan.

It's enough, and he grins down at me. "Hey, Lassie. How's the head?"

I think I have a concussion. "I think you have a concussion." Maybe he really is psychic?

He helps me sit up, then slides behind me to help me stay upright. "We'll be in here a while, Jules said she's on her way but traffic's bad, even for cops."

It doesn't matter. As long as he holds me, as long as I can hear the music playing and feel his heart beating behind me, I'm ok.

**Just the way I'm feeling – Feeder**

I feel his hands on me, holding me close as we kiss. He's passionate, caring, a wonderful lover, whatever he seems like to other people. But every time we're together, I feel torn in two – I know I could destroy his career, maybe even his life, with what we are.

One hand strokes down my back, and my worries vanish, at least for now, as I lose myself in the feelings.

---

His stitches have torn, some time during our lovemaking, and I'm appalled that he didn't stop me. I apply bandages to his side, as he scolds me for making too much of a little graze. Seven stitches is not a little graze, however few it is compared to the number he's needed over his lifetime.

Once again, I think of how his life and his loving are merged – how there's always a little part of one mixed up with the other. He can never separate the two.

He seems fine with it. I can feel this thing between us, how risky it is, and yet every time he touches me I forget my reservations. But afterwards, and between, I know we shouldn't be risking him like this.

I'm so in love with him, and I can't bear to lose him. I know it's foolish, but I can't bear to let him go, and he doesn't want to be let go. It's just… the way I'm feeling, how in love I am with him, it's beyond anything I've ever felt before. I'm in love with Carlton Lassiter, and it's wonderful.

= ~ = psych = ~ =


End file.
